On the Other Side of the Mirror
by NigelTux
Summary: His name is Red, though it wasn't always such. He's had many names over the years: Brother, Subject Zero, Friend, Son, Agent, Enemy, Lover, Uncle and another...
1. Chapter 1

_The world was burning._

 _For as a far as the eye could see, all there was consisted of hungry flames and darkening smoke- suffocating the sparse light- as it attempted to devour all within its path. Yet despite that, he could still see the one responsible for his current position with a crystal clarity._

 _A child, barely a few years older than himself, just stared down at the younger with that patient smile in place._

 _His snow white hair was like a beacon within the darkness- calling out to any and all who could see it with it exotic coloring- yet it had been those emerald eyes- those unnatural eyes which had once been filled with a deceptive warmth- that had truly drawn in the younger; all but hypnotically luring him into this situation._

 _If he could the younger of the two probably would have cursed the older using those words his Father always told him never to repeat. As it was though, it was all the younger child could do at the moment was to just glare his frustration, his anger- at both himself for falling for the ruse and the older for what he had done- with his lone good eye- the other now nothing more than a hollow void within his skull- the golden orb once within it now held within delicate fingers of the emerald-eyed boy's bloody hand -while vainly struggling against his bindings but only managed to gain himself rope burns._

 _A soft chuckle left the older child, a fondness for his tone the younger loathed instantly._

 _"I'll see you around Love and if not... Well, at least I'll have something to remember you by."_

 _He twirled the child's eye between two fingers as though it was a finely crafted diamond and he a Jeweler measuring its worth before flashing the four-year-old struggling against his bindings another deceptively warm smile, only to be rewarded by another of those adorable glares that left him more than tempted to kneel down and remove the other eyes. Yet there was no time for that; if anything he had already spent too much time with the lost child then he should have._

 _The flames were closing in._

 _The golden-eyed child could feel them barely flickering against his clothes and skin as he watched the Brit turn on heel and leave without so much as a backward glance._

 _If not for the gag, he would have screamed and cursed the older the whole way yet as it was all the rouge haired child could do was struggle against the thick ropes digging roughly into his skin and hope for a miracle he doubted would ever come._

 _Beep. Beep._ _ **Beep. Bee-**_

 ** _Crash!_**

A soft groan left the figure on the bed as the alarm shattered against the far wall before ahead of rouge hair peeked out from under the mass of blankets.

It took a moment, but soon a young man- _who appeared to be in his early twenties-_ untangled himself from the comforts of the warm blankets as mismatched eyes glanced towards the mess that was once his alarm with a hint of sleepy annoyance- _Great, there went another._ _Maybe he should look into finding a way to make those nuisances invincible? It would save him the effort of having to rebuild the blasted thing every morning_ \- before glancing towards the window.

It was still dark outside, having a couple more hours until Dawn's first light would break the horizon and if the man was honest; he would much rather spend those few remaining hours within the comfort of his bed yet Duty called and would wait for no one.

Flickering on the news, the rouge haired man headed for the shower; keeping an ear open for any new occurrences within the area.

 _"-leaving treacherous driving conditions and flights grounded across the country. Divers have been warned journeys could take three times longer than usual-"_

 _Wonderful._ Sighing softly, the rouge reached into the shower; sticking a pale hand beneath the steaming water to ensure it was the right temperature before climbing inside. The hot water was bliss considering the morning chill that had filled his room due to the excess snow building up outside.

 _"-Twenty-six people where killed and a hundred and fifty injured early this morning when a bomb went off at The Buckingham Palace-"_

Sighing softly, the rouge haired man cut off the water and wrapped a towel around his waist- _allowing it to hang tightly around his hips as he used another towel to try to dry his hair-_ before making his way to the darkened kitchen. _Honestly, there wasn't much inside: Cold leftovers from the night before, half a carton of milk, a couple of dishes in the drying rack and an empty bag of coffee grinds sitting innocently upon the counter - a sight that had him crooning mournfully- as though silently mocking him._

 _So much for that idea. What was there,_ the man thought to himself as threw away another empty bag he could have sworn was half full the night before, _some sort of pixie that just waited until he was desperate for a nice hot cup of coffee before stealing it all?_

Brushing the childish thought from his mind, the redhead grabbed his clothes from where they were hanging on the back of a kitchen chair before completely his morning ritual of hopping on one foot- _while trying not to fall or drop his towel_ \- as he proceeded to get dressed. Once that was finished, he throws the towels into the washer before making his way towards the door- _grabbing his coat and ensuring his keys were still resting inside his breast pocket before sending his darkened kitchen a longing look-_ with a soft resigned sigh, it would seem today was going to be another day of _'Grab and Go'_ for breakfast.

The moment he sets a foot outside- the rouge is greeted by a chill breeze that gently kisses his cheeks and ruffled his hair- and freezing snow that comes up to his knees. To be honest, he's tempted to turn back so as to hid underneath his blankets and call in sick but there's no coffee in his house and that there- no matter what he may claim otherwise- was the deal breaker; so he takes a breathe and trudges his way forward.

There was a small café a quarter mile from his current home name: _Savio's_ that made one of the best espressos he had tasted on this side of the Atlantic. It was also one of the few places one could find open- _even in a storm like this_ \- as the owner, a dirty blonde haired man named Savio with a thick Brazilian accent, lived directly above his little café.

The soft tinkle of a bell interrupts the soft humming coming from within the café as the rouge pushes open the glass door; which in turn draws the attention of the previously mentioned owner from where he had been slaving away at the stove once more. The mouthwatering scent of pork filtered his senses- _yet twisted something inside his stomach into tight knots of disgust that all but smothered his hunger_ \- as the rouge haired man stepped into the warmth awaiting him inside.

"Ah, Red," Savio turns on heel so to face what he strongly suspects will be his only customer for the day, "I was wondering if you would show up today. Your Usual, I presume?"

"You would assume correctly," The man now identified as _'Red'_ confirmed as he takes a seat at a table tucked with a corner by the door. It was the seat he always took; the one that permitted him to see everything and everyone within the establishment while close to the door yet out of sight unless one was actively searching for him.

"And I can't tempt you with any meat?"

"Nyet."

The answer is blunt and straightforward for while Red was certain the meat would taste as delicious as it smelled; a part of the rouge wouldn't let him touch it, let alone actually eat it. Something just never felt right about it though he couldn't quite place exactly what the issue was... _A spice maybe?_

"Shame," Savio mumbles- _though he knows the rouge can hear him despite on the other side of the room- as he turns to prepare a large espresso and an acorn tart- the rouge had such strange tastes but then again who was he to judge?-_ for his only customer, "I had a nice, young one I've been slow roasting all night just for my costumes today. "

"I suppose you'll just have to eat it yourself," a smooth Russian accented voice cuts through the silence as the rouge lone eyes trailed him- _or more specifically the cup of espresso in his hand-_ across the café.

"I suppose I will," Savio admitted- _not that he minded while he liked sharing his work; he also enjoyed a few meals to himself-_ as he placed the Russian's order into a 'To Go' bag and headed for the cash registered, "I take it this is to go?"

"Unfortunately."

Considering the weather, the redhead doubted he would have time to enjoy his meal in solitude and make it to work on time even if he wanted and therefore was likely going to be stuck eating inside his Ashton Martin, if not his office. Most likely then not it would be in his office as Red couldn't stand the idea of eating inside a vehicle and the possibility of crumbs getting into everything.

"That'll be Two eight-seven."

Paying for his breakfast, the rouge gives a final wave over his shoulder to the Brazilian man's pleasantries and once more began his effort of safely guiding his way through the literal Death Trap the streets had become overnight.

His efforts pay off though as he's one of the first people to arrive at Headquarters- _the moment he steps through those doors, the rouge carefully tucks 'Red' away into the dark recesses of his mind; leaving 'Agent Red' in the man's face as he allows his trademark smirk to filter into place-_ where he had been promptly greeted by a lobby full of sleep-deprived Q Division Interns, _who had apparently overworked themselves yet again and ended up trapped inside the building overnight instead of risking going home._

 _And to think_ , Red had actually thought he was done looking after children when his Godson- _who deemed himself old enough to live by himself -_ moved to Texas and his Nephew- _a sweet yet naïve child who had become rather determined to create his own 'legacy'_ \- to New York...

 _Apparently not._

Resisting the urge to sigh, Red allowed his lone golden eye to lock onto the assorted crowd of interns _\- who were all staring at him as though he was some sort of animal at a zoo-_ before speaking, "Whoever is not within a shower in the next two minutes..." He pauses for a moment, making sure he's at least _-glanced over each and everyone one of them-_ so they would know how serious he truly was- before continuing, _"I'm shooting them."_

It was amazing how swiftly a room could be cleared with just three little words falling from his lips.

 _What? He had a rather heightened sense of smell, making it painfully obvious to him that none of them had bothered to shower the night before._ Hell, knowing Q's Little _'Geniuses'_ that had likely forgotten to shower for days _\- it sure smelled like it-_ as they were too busy with whatever they deemed their next _'Great Breakthrough'._

Shaking his head, the rouge boards the elevator and continues on his way to his office. Hopefully- _and with a lot of luck_ \- he'll be capable of enjoying his breakfast in peace before the _'Little Geniuses'_ somehow discover a way to set the showers on fire...

 _Again._

 **Chapter 1**

 _He is what he is, but he's not what you see._

His name is Red, though it wasn't always such.

He's had many names over the years: _Brother, Subject Zero, Friend, Son, Agent, Enemy, Lover, Uncle and another..._

Another was the One he couldn't quite remember- _one that been there before all the other's he accumulated like trophies over the years-_ despite the fact, the Doctors had insisted Time would tell all...

He was still waiting but time never said anything to him outside of the fact that his hourglass was slowly running out with every moment he wasted waiting for an answer he might never receive. So he tries not to think about _'Another'_ ; if he remembers, he'll remember and if not _... Well, he's survived without knowing._

Next came _'Brother'_ ; _Younger_ Brother to be exact.

Brother is a blur but he does remember some of it. He was a sickly child- _always trapped inside in his bed and barely able to walk across his bedroom without collapsing-_ that never able to do much of anything without coughing up too much blood to be considered healthy, but that was okay; he had Brother.

From the start, it had always been him and his Brother- _he doesn't know what happened to their mother. She was a taboo topic within their home so he never asked about her that way His Brother would never get upset over the matter-_ against the world. No one had cared about them or what happened to them as there were too many runaways, orphans and Street Rats for anyone to try. _What did it matter if one child died when there were ten more to replace it?_

So for as long as he could remember, they had only each other and for Him; that was plenty as He didn't require anyone or anything else and for a while, they were happy.

They had a home which provided warmth and shelter, there was a retired nurse down the street- _an elderly woman with silver hair, crows feet around the corner of her eyes, and deep laugh lines_ \- that would look after him while his brother worked so they always a steady income and something to eat for dinner. He felt like a burden most days- _he couldn't do anything to help like other's would have been capable of doing_ \- but his Brother always seemed to know what he was thinking and wasted no time in cutting his dark thoughts in half.

 _'You're three, don't aspire to grow up too fast on me just yet.'_

But then those days were brought to a brutal end...

At first, no one noticed when children began to go missing- _they were just too many to keep track of but then a wealthy businessman's son was taken. It was strange how no one cared until those with money were suddenly involved and offering a vast amount of currency for any information on the matter._

Just like that all eyes were suddenly wide open and watching everything like a hawk, yet somehow; no one noticed anything when the Pastor's Daughter disappeared while playing at the park just down the street from where they used to live.

Over time, things became worse instead of better; everyone was in full-blown paranoia and no one permitted their children outside longer than they had too once there were too many street children missing for them to ignore. It eventually got to the point parents would haul the street children and the runaways into their homes at night and refuse to grant them leave until the sun was well within the sky the next morning.

After that, things calmed for a bit until a woman that lived near the riverbank reported her neighbor's door had been broken off its hinges sometime during the previous night. The Enforcers discovered the parent's corpses in their beds with a single quarter size vacuum in their heads. _Further investigates unearthed indications of a conflict within the children's room yet no children anywhere to be seen._

At the time, he didn't know any of this except for in brief passing when the nurse- _he was ashamed to admit he had forgotten her name-_ would familiarize him with the neighborhood gossip though he had only listened with half an ear out of politeness. He should have given more regard to her words though it likely wouldn't have done him any good.

After all, he wasn't taken from his home; instead, he was seized from the _Hospital_ while experiencing one of his _attacks_.

He wasn't even aware he had been stolen until he attained consciousness within a dimmed room enclosed by hundreds of other children. That had marked the completion of his time as _'Brother'_ and once the scientist- _Doctors, whatever they wanted to call themselves as their titles wouldn't change what they were or what they did_ \- decided on who they wanted as their _'lab rats'_ would be the inception of his life as _'Subject Zero'._

* * *

 _His time as Brother had been full of warmth, comfort, love and a false sense of hope- that one day, things would get better as his brother refused to let him believe anything else- while his time as 'Subject Zero' was the exact opposite._

 _There was no warmth here-just the bitter iciness of an empty that was always so cold you could see your own breathe- no comfort- instead there was the harshness of steel and knives, the empty words of a monster pretending to be a man- no love- the only thing they loved was their experiments and that was only if they succeeded- and no hope._

 _They had made sure to crush that first, but there was a new sensation that he would later discover was called 'Hate'._

 _That, the toddler known only as 'Subject Zero' learned, was something he had in Spades._

 _But to be honest, he's getting a bit ahead of himself, isn't he? To start with... Maybe he should focus at the Beginning._

His life as Subject Zero originated when he was three years old on Christmas Eve _-talk about presents you don't want_ \- during what many would later profess to be the _'Coldest Winter of the Century'._

Due to his ailing appearance, most of the scientist avoided him when it came time for them to chose their _'Lab Rats'- After all, what was the point? To them, he was so unmistakably ill he would possibly die in the first insignificant operation they endeavored on him... That was if the possible subject even managed to persist that long-_ but there was one, who unlike the others; didn't disregard him- _oh how he wished the monster in disguise did-_ instead those sharp stormy eyes seemed to intentionally regard the toddler wherever he went.

They didn't have names- _no one ever called them but anything but the numbers branded into their shoulders_ \- and if they ever did, they eventually forgot them as names were no use to anyone here. _Something a few subjects discovered the hard way when they tried using their lineage to intimidate the Doctors only for the Monsters to volunteer them for whatever twisted scheme they needed a Subject for then._

Zero had spent the first two months there curled up- _into as small of a ball as he physically could_ \- in the back of the room- keeping his head down and his mouth shut- which in turn made him easier to overlook. For a while, it seemed to work as twenty slowly shrunk to seventeen then fourteen then ten yet he was never once carted away; but all luck runs out eventually.

There's an old experiment the _'Doctors'_ had spent years trying to make a reality but for some reason, any Subject who undergoes the procedure dies before they even reach the quarter mark point _. To be 'Gifted' this operation is to be Gifted_ _ **Death**_ _._

So really, Zero finds he's not all that surprised Doctor wishes to _'Gift'_ him the operation. _After all, he was already half dead and incapable of doing much of anything else but becoming another faceless corpse._

Three- _a once brunette teenager and an unofficial mother hen of an older sister to a now dead brother_ \- doesn't accept Zero's fate with the sign reassignment as Zero himself. She's angry as he pushes him behind her before a scowl twists onto her face- _almost reopening the stitches wound around her head_ \- as she shouts bloody murder at the monster of a man who just seems bored with her sudden defiance.

Though he knows she's trying to protect him, Zero cannot help but wish Three would just be quiet _\- Can't she see he's not worth it and if she kept this up the Monster would just hurt Three even more than he already did?-_ and leave him to his Fate. _He doesn't want anyone to get hurt because of him_ so he tries to slip by her- _to get her to move while she could_ \- but Three is stubborn and he cannot pry his wrist from her tight grip.

In the end, it doesn't matter though- _it never does as one way or another the Monsters always win-_ for Zero finds himself numb and hollow as crimson liquid and brain matter slowly drips from his hair and onto the white floors. The Monster just sighs before plucking him from the ground and carting him out of the deathly silent room.

It was the last time he saw the other Nine.

Zero doesn't really remember the operation; Just the glacial steel of a metal slab against his bare back, a needle penetrating his arm and then intolerable agony unlike anything he had felt before- _It was as though someone was tearing him apart molecule by molecule starting with the molecules which created his Atoms-_ before the scent of blood reached him and screams _-_ _possibly his own now that he looked back on it_ \- deafened him.

His mind must have approached its limit and shutdown at one point because the last thing Zero remembered was the sensation of drowning in his own blood before he woke alone within an unfamiliar white room. For the next two years, the white room would become his _'Home'- for it was where he was always returned once monster decided to take a break from his never-ending experiments-_ while driving him half mad at the same time.

 _White, white, white_. It was all Zero ever viewed unless the bad days left the walls dyed red. _Red..._

He preferred red- _It was also the only thing that stayed constant in his so-called existence_ \- as it gives a sense of life and color to the empty void encompassing him so he tries to make red stay... Monster doesn't approve.

 _Especially once Zero's mind finally discerns there's red beneath his skin and if he could pierce it, he could have all the red he wanted._

 _Which is probably why Monster brought him 'Friend' though Zero was reluctant to claim the other as such._

 _Friend is strange- he smiles more than anyone else here and his unnatural emerald eyes shine brightly every time he talks but there's something not right about him- in Zero's opinion._

 _And no it wasn't his hair, though Zero would admit; he had never seen anyone so young with hair the color of snow before._

 _It was something else, something in those eyes that unnerved him to the point Zero just wanted 'Friend' to stay away, but its not like he had a choice in the matter. So he tries his best to ignore the uneasy sensation in favor of concentrating on something else to direct himself with; like how he was going to paint the walls once 'Friend' left._

 _Maybe he would attempt handprints again?_

 _Proper ones this time instead of turning them all into turkeys._

* * *

 _He's six when his life transitions once more but this time for the better._

 _His day starts out normal enough: Test, experiments, lessons, Friend's visit, a fight in cages with another Subject -where only one was allowed to walk away- and then back to his room where the white jacket 'Friend' got him after he refused to stop seeking red was waiting._

 _To be honest, Zero abhors that jacket._

 _There were too many latches, the sleeves were too long, he couldn't grasp anything- let alone red - when he was wearing it and worse of all; it was as white as his prison. Why was it always white?_

 _Furthermore, Zero just couldn't comprehend why anyone would create a jacket that restricted their mobility while forcing the wearing to hug themselves and he highly doubts it has anything to do with 'installing a sense of self-love' like 'Friend' originally claimed. Friend' was probably just getting tired of him smearing red all over his white hair though Zero doesn't understand why that would be._

 _But that didn't matter, Zero knew how to escape the jacket- He just needed to wait for Monster and Friend to leave then he could access red again- all he had to do was be patient; so he rolls on his side, curls into a ball and tries to ignore the world around him._

He's in the process of painting his walls a beautiful shade of crimson when he hears a soft click coming from his prison's door. A part of him wonders if Monster had returned for something or if _'Friend'_ wanted another ' _sleepover_ ', but to his mild surprise neither of the two walks through the heavy metal door.

Instead, it was a man Zero had never seen before who halts in the doorway, gazing directly at him with intense golden eyes- _Huh, so he wasn't the only person born with eyes like that?-_ that slowly stray from his being and to the wall behind him. He wonders if the man is going to get angry like Monster does or upset like Friend tend to do when they find him conspiring with the red to overthrow the unbearable white.

Apparently, neither as instead of storming his way, the strange man with the silver-speckled hair slowly crouches down- _keeping his hands in front of him and close to the ground-_ before speaking in a soothing tone, "Hello."

He can't help but blink slowly as the silence stretches onwards. _Was the man actually expecting him to respond?_ The thought alone was a foreign concept; no one talked to him besides Friend and Friend never expected him to respond. Hesitantly, he bites his lip- _ignoring the coppery taste of the red he had smear across his face in a fit of giggles_ \- before attempting to mimic the man's word.

"H-hul-le?" his voice is soft and raspy from lack of use as the only time he ever did use it was when he couldn't muffle the screams. Zero is certain he's mispronounced the word but the man doesn't seem to mind as he offers a slight gentle smile that felt more sincere than any _'Friend'_ granted him.

"What are you doing, Little One?"

Blinking, Zero glances down at his hands than the wall behind him before permitting his gaze to drift back towards the man, where he proceeds to hold up his hands as though they were the answer, "Culuw."

"And what a pretty color that is," The man speaks softly as his hands reach into his pockets- _Zero cannot help but tense slightly. Monster only reached into his pockets before something bad would happen-_ only to pull out some type of long fabric of the same shade, "I happened to have a scarf of that same color. If you come over here, I'll let you have it."

Zero doesn't even have to think about it- _the man didn't feel dangerous or strange in the sense Monster and Friend did. Plus he had something new of the same shade which Zero adored-_ before he finds himself slowly edging his way towards the man.

Throughout it all, the man doesn't move- _even if those eyes follow Zero's every move-_ even when the blood splattered six year old gently lifts the strange fabric from his hand and tilts it every which way as though trying to piece together exactly what it was. _Which was exactly what Zero was attempting to do. It was some type of cloth but there were no holes in it so it couldn't be clothes and Zero wasn't permitted blankets so it couldn't be that_.

The golden-eyed man just chuckles softly as he slowly reaches for the clothes, "Here, let me show you."

If later asked, Zero would forever deny panicking when the man attempted to wrap the strange fabric around his neck but once he had calmed down, Zero fount it was rather comfortable instead of suffocating _\- cutting into his windpipes so to halt his oxygen. Violent struggles as it tightens and he can't breathe, he can't breathe-_ like he first assumed it would be.

He blinks languidly at the man who offers him a strangely tender smile, before attempting to cover the scratches on the man's face with red- _red made everything better so it could fix his mistake... Right?-_ causing the elder man to chuckle softly.

"Sorry about that," The man speaks softly as he meet the Zero's eyes, "I probably should have warned you beforehand, huh?"

Zero just blinked at him- _unsure how to answer or if he could arrange the words that he would require to do so-_ but the man doesn't seem to mind, "Alright then. I'm about to pick you up and then we are leaving. "

 _Leaving?_

Now **that** has Zero's attention- _After all, no one ever leaves the Lab unless it was in thousands of pieces or ashes in the wind_ \- as he gives the man an alarmed look and tries to step back, but there's a gentle grip on his wrist and he can't.

"Easy, It's okay." The man speaks softly, holding out his other hand as though to pacify him, "Everything's okay. "

 _The man's voice is a distraction,_ Zero learns as he notices his feet are no longer on the ground as the man straightens himself out with one arm around his waist and another gently smoothing his hair- _a gesture that feels familiar but he cannot recall where he could have ever experienced such a thing... Maybe from before the Lab? Was there ever a 'before'?_ \- as though to calm him, "Everything is going to be okay. Trust me."

For some insane reason that Zero would never be able to explain, the six-year-old stops endeavoring to pry himself from the man's vice-grip in favor of meeting the other's eyes. There's something about- _something within them-_ that makes him want to believe the man and his words... _Either way, if he's wrong; he'll be dead soon enough and at least then he could finally bid Monster farewell._

Sighing softly, Zero allowed his head to rest upon the man's shoulder listening to the steady rhythm of the man's heart as the other walked further away from the only place he could remember.

 _The last time Zero saw the Lab and the Monsters that lurked within, the building had become nothing more than a furiously burning flame and dark smoke that filled the sky and could likely be seen from miles away. That same day- standing out in the frozen wasteland with the silver-haired man- who had helped so many escape that Living Hell- Subject Zero died and Red was born in his place._

 _To be honest, Red feels lighter than he has in years as he watches the fire turn into smoldering ruins of what might as well represent his past._

 _Turning, He smiles at the man who the others had called 'Agent' or 'Victor' before smearing red further onto the man's white jacket._

 _What could he say?_

 _He still didn't like that color._


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

 _Insanity is a matter of Perspective_

He doesn't like the _'healers'_.

They talk about him in whispers when they think he's not listening- _he's always listening though so they might as well be screaming it into his face-_ They think he's mad and they tell _'Victor'_ so with a strange look in their eyes.

They want 'Victor' to put him into a nice white room with a nice white jacket until _'his mind mends itself'_ but there's nothing wrong with his mind so how can it heal? Red doesn't know and he really doesn't care, not when Victor has promised to _'take him home' today_.

He wonders what _'home'_ is.

 _Will it be something warm? Something he can hold or eat? Something he can paint red like the walls? Was home another word for red? Could he put it in his pocket and carry it around everywhere?_

There's only one real way to know, so the rouge haired child snatches up his red scarf and red _'gloves'_ before running towards Victor and the _'healers'_. For some reason, one of the strange men in white try to stop him, but he's always been quick on his feet so Red doesn't have any issues slipping beneath the man's open arms- _Maybe he wanted a hug?-_ and latching firmly onto Victor's leg.

"Wictow," he tugs slightly on the man's jacket with wide eyes and a smile that has the nurses flinching away from him for some reason. Then again, they always did that when he smiled so maybe they were _'allergic'_ to them like Four used to be to Monster's white hand covers, "Hume?"

A soft chuckle is his answer as the golden eyes man runs fingers through his hair in a soothing gesture, "In a moment Red, I still need to finish talking with these ladies."

 _Why_? All they did was say the same things over and over- _maybe they were insane?-_ while talking behind people's backs.

Still, Victor had asked for a moment and Red had plenty of those to spare so he gives the man doesn't nod before focusing his attention on the pretty red in his hands. He wonders how they get the soft fabric to hold the color as his old clothes never would _\- it always faded away into a shade rather similar to that of copper and mud mixed together._

Maybe he could ask Victor to show him how and then he could paint all the man's too white clothes red for him so he didn't have to endure them anymore.

"Victor, you can't seriously be planning to take him with you!" The _'Healer's'_ loud voice draws Red from his thoughts causing the child to glance upwards before a slight fascination enters his eyes _\- He didn't know faces could access the pretty red without piercing the skin beforehand_ \- as the dark haired woman seemed to sputter, "He needs help, Victor! He needs a hospital and probably, depending on the damage, an asylum."

 _Help? Was Victor taking someone else with them when they left?_ The rouge haired child frowned softly as he glanced around in search for whoever it was that needed help, but besides the strange man in white Red couldn't see anyone else...

 _Maybe the woman needed an eye healer?_ Though that left Red wondering if the woman should be allowed to _'heal'_ other when she herself needed healing. Maybe if he got her one of those _'Magical Band-Aids'_ Victor had given him- _though he didn't know why he needed so many or where the silver-haired man had found the long tan ones that covered his hands, arms, chest, neck, and legs. He didn't even know these 'Magical Band-Aids' could be so huge -_ she would get better?

 _...Where had Victor gotten the 'Magical Band-Aids' from again?_

Red wracked his mind, trying to remember where they had come from but now that he thought about it Victor had him close his eyes as he used some sort of magic to bring them into existence. Nodding to himself, Red allowed his eyes to slip close and focused his thought upon the magical Band-Aids before opening them again, but there were magical Band-Aids in his hands and no matter how many time he tried he just couldn't make them appear...

So he did the next best thing. Carefully one of his smaller magical bandages from his cheek, Red reached over and pressed it onto the healer's ugly white scrubs.

Silence instantly filled the room with two sets of eyes stared down at the rather proud feeling rouge. After all, not only was the magical Band-Aid going to heal the woman but it made it so her clothes were no longer all white. Sure, it wasn't the pretty red he would have chosen to paint her with but anything was better than ugly white.

"Red," Golden eyes blinked upwards at the older man, "What are you doing?"

 _Wasn't it obvious?_ Red allowed his brows to furrow slightly as he stared at Victor _\- his eyes scanning the man closely in case the other also needed magical bandages_ \- before pointing towards the Healer, "Heaw."

Truthfully, Red really doesn't understand why Victor starts chuckling but it's of no matter to him as he seems to be done talking to the _'Healer'_ that the magical Band-Aid was working on healing. Therefore there was only one thing left, "Hume?"

* * *

Home is strange but in a good way.

Its... Comfortable- _Red supposes is the word he's looking for-_ in a way the lab never was for Zero. It doesn't smell like chemical or the sterile sanitizer Monster wiped everything down with. Best of all though, it doesn't smell like _Death_ ; instead, the whole place smelled of what he believed was called _'coffee'_ and something that made his mouth water.

Next was the fact there was barely any white anywhere, instead, every room seemed to have a different color and a different design decorating the walls.

There were so many colors everywhere he looked, he had even discovered three distinct hues of red in the design of what Victor had dubbed a _'dining room_ ' which was apparently used for eating- _a whole room!-_ with family or guest. Red couldn't wait to try it out for himself, but first, he was going to have to learn something called _'table manners'_ as according to Victor one wasn't supposed to eat with their hands, bite or growl at other people who accidentally ventured too close to your food.

To be honest, Red doesn't understand why he can't.

After all, how else was he supposed to stop others from stealing his food? Or what if they changed their mind and decided he didn't need any food and took it back? Monster had done that lots of times as food granted a person energy which Monster deemed he didn't need and therefore would either take it back to eat himself or throw it into a mess of chemicals. Then there was _'Friend',_ he brought food every now and then _\- usually when Monster forgot to feed Zero for more than a week_ \- but Friend always had _'conditions'_ he expected to be followed.

Finally, there was Red's favorite part of the _'Home'_ ; a bedroom but not just any bedroom; _His_ bedroom.

The small child was practically bouncing off the walls as he rushed from the small bed- _A bed, an actual bed with an actual mattress, covers and a pillow instead of a stiff white floor that left his back constantly aching_ \- towards the _'dresser'_ then towards the thing called a _'bookshelf'_. It even had books on it, small thin ones which left him befuddled on what the strange symbols were but they were still books and books meant knowledge that he currently didn't have but could possibly learn.

"Wed!" the small child all but giggled in delight as he tackled the crimson quilt he had discovered within the closet...

 _That was if he could stay focused long enough to do so._

"Red," he glances up upon hearing the voice beckoning him from outside the room, "Its time for dinner."

 _Dinner? What's a 'dinner'?_

Curious, the small child forces himself to his feet while grabbing an armful of the pretty red cover and dragging it with him out of his _'room'_. It's not easy as he keeps tripping over his own feet as they somehow manage to tangle themselves within the cloth but he doesn't want to let it go least someone tries to steal the pretty red- _what if someone else noticed how pretty the red was and wanted to take it for themselves? What if they stole all the red in the whole world?-_ from him when his back is turned. That wouldn't due, after all, if they stole the pretty red the white might come back and he doesn't want the white to come back.

Dinner, it turns out, is another word for _food_.

Wide golden eyes stared at the table with more food on it then he had seen for... Well, as long as he could remember, which wasn't that long really as he couldn't remember anything before the Lab- _was there anything before the Lab and Subject Zero?-_ but he doesn't want to think about that right now. Instead, he would rather think about the assorted things placed across the _'table'_ like the bowl of white stuff that looked kind of like lumpy- yet somehow smooth- snow or the brown thing Victor had said was _'Stew'_ with assorted colors floating within it.

He doesn't know what stew supposed to be but it smells good and Victor doesn't hesitate to eat it so it must be safe to do the same... _Right_?

After a moment of thought, Red decides to take his chances and carefully takes a small bite. If its poisoned he could easily spit it out and most poisons didn't really work on him anyways unless in large doses.

It burns _\- leaving a part of Red wondering whether the stew was trying to digest him_ \- but the slight pain vanishes the moment he registers the burst of flavor. To be honest, he's not sure how to describe the flavors as he's never tasted anything with such a texture before _-usually it was just flavorless mush witch half the time left Zero wondering if Monster had found a way to solidify air-_ and therefore had nothing to compare it to.

Without a second thought, the child attempted to rapidly devour the _'stew'_ before it could devour him. Though it tried its best- _his throat hurt but the pain was mild as he must have swallowed the 'stew' before it could eat through the muscles- the_ child could proudly claim he had won the final battle between the two of them.

* * *

He doesn't like strangers.

It was something Victor knew well which was why the rouge haired child never had any Watchers- _strange men and women in suits that stalked the grove outside their home-_ inside the house when the silver-haired man was at _'work'_. So the moment the paint-spattered child hears soft footsteps he knows something is amiss.

No one comes inside when Victor was gone, not since what happened the first- _and last_ \- time one of the watchers deemed their jobs more efficient if they were within a shared vacancy with him only to be hauled out on a stretcher.

Tilting his head slightly, the rouge haired child stared at his door as he ponders over to what to do. One one hand Victor might be home early which meant he could show off his _'painting'_ but on the other hand, the painting wasn't finished and what if the person wasn't Victor? But then again, no one comes into their home unless the silver-haired man was home so maybe it was Victor and he should finish his painting before the man came to see him?

Nodding slightly to himself, the rouge turned his attention back to his work while considering what color would best complicate assorted shades of red, blue and green.

 _Maybe a silver color like Victor's hair?_ The man seemed to have a strange fondness for the color as he wore it every day. So maybe the man would like his painting more if he hides all the white beneath the silver? The soft creaking of his bedroom door being pushed open instantly draws the rouge from his thoughts as golden eyes dart into towards the source of the noise:

That was not Victor.

The man's whole appearance was wrong- _he was a couple of inches too short, his hair was the color of the night sky and his eyes that of the earth's soil_ \- and his clothes were the wrong color. The man looked like something Red had seen in a book Victor was using to teach him to read, the characters who went around with towels on their arms and stalked other people: A Butler- _He thinks is the word_ \- but why was there a butler in their house? Victor would have warned him if he hired one so that could be it...

 _Maybe the man was lost? But then why did none of the watchers inform the man of such?_

And then there was that, golden eyes drifted down towards the man's polished black shoes, "You'we getting wed on the floow."

The man's earthy eyes blinked before glancing down at his own shoes as though he was seeing them for the first time- _how does a man forget putting on shoes?-_ as he slowly lifted one foot to see the pretty red imprints left behind, "So I am."

Red couldn't help but feel a slight hint of annoyance as right after the man acknowledges this, he placed his foot back on the ground adding another pretty red stain to the floor.

Don't get him wrong, he liked the pretty hues of red and if he would the child would have painted everything he could reach the beautiful color but Victor liked the wooden floors the way they were and asked him to try to keep the pretty red off the ground and now this strange man was painting the ground with every step he took.

 _How was that fair?_

 _Red didn't mean to do it- Honest!- it was just when the strange butler man had suddenly tried to lift him up the child had caught a scent of something sickly sweet- something oh so familiar- from the man's breast pocket. He knew that smell, Monster used it from time to time when some Subjects were overly aggressive during procedures and he didn't want his work too damaged. Something just snapped- Honestly, he doesn't even remember doing only the faint echoes of muffled screams that would soon die away, sometimes forever, echoing within his head- as one moment Red found himself being held and the next he was sitting on the floor staring at the strange butler man with his paintbrush going through one of those earthly eyes._

 _The strange man wasn't moving and kept ignoring him when Red tried to wake him but since he was such pretty shade of red, the child decided to forgive the strange butler man for that and instead focused his attention back onto his painting which now had a spatter of the pretty red further enchanting his work._

 _Victor wasn't very happy to find the strange butler man sleeping on his floor when he finally got home. Red doesn't understand they have to move after that but it matters little to him as this new home feels rather similar to the last, the only difference is this one is just a bit smaller._

* * *

 _Why was it when people were worried about you they sent you to a 'Therapist'? Shouldn't they try to keep you further away from the person whose occupation all but spelled out: The-rapist? Red frowned softly as he pondered over his question while closing eying the smiling woman Victor had granted access to their home._

 _"Red, do you know why I'm here?"_

 _She probably thought he would be an easy prey to fester her claws into, but he was onto her tricks. First, she would act nice and soft-spoken and then when he left down his guard; she would pounce and tear him to pieces. Seven used to do the same thing in the arena though Zero had only barely missed falling for it the first time he ever witnessed it._

 _Red doesn't bother with a verbal answer, instead, he tilts his head slightly while granting the woman his entire focus. He had to be vigilant as there was likely to be a massive amount of deceit and double meaning words hidden within her precisely designed performance._

 _"Red, do you remember the man who entered your home?"_

 _Of course, he does, it was hard to forget the strangely lost butler who had slept on his floor and caused Victor to panic so._

 _"Do you understand what happened to him?"_

 _Blinking, Red tilts his head a bit as he tried to decipher the woman's words: Happen? Nothing happened to the man. He was still sleeping the last time the rouge haired child has seen him._

 _The woman keeps talking but Red's no longer paying her any more attention than necessary._

 _After all, She's of little importance to him now that Victor has returned._

 _For with Victor, came freedom._

* * *

 _If he's honest, Red doesn't like sleeping as every time he sleeps he finds himself Subject Zero with Monster and Friend lurking around every corner._

 _He doesn't want to sleep as he doesn't want to remember but if he doesn't sleep, Victor would grant him this look- golden eyes full of worry and disappointment as the other attempt to soothe the strange grip that always seemed determined to crush his heart- that the child hated. He didn't need- nor want- such a look directed towards him, especially by Victor so on those nights were the 'visions' are too much; Red does his utmost best to avoid the silver-haired man._

 _Though it was easier said than done as no matter where he hides- the attic, the basement, underneath desks and beds, in the closet, on the roof- the elder man always seemed to know where he was._

 _"There you are." Like now..._

 _Slowly, golden eyes pried themselves from the night sky and onto the silver-haired man who was pulling himself completely out of a window to join the rouge haired child on the roof._

 _"You really should tell someone when you decide to come up here," Victor speaks softly, his hand ruffling crimson locks causing the rouge to stare up at him with a hint of curiosity. He wondered if this was another 'parental right'- as the silver-haired man tended to dub most things- or if the other was just trying to cause enough friction to set his hair ablaze._

 _Personally, he hopes its the former as the gesture did feel kind of nice though the contact itself seems a bit too brief as the elder pulled away from his hand after a moment longer. Red pretends not to hear the soft chuckle just as he pretends he's not pouting._

* * *

He's fascinated.

Golden eyes stared at the black scribbles staining the pale sheets as Victor slowly moved a finger underneath them as he spoke, "A man deliberately stepped into her path. Her heart backed up into her throat. Then he dropped."

If Red was honest, He found it fascinating how Victor turned the scribbles into words which painted a picture within his mind as though the rouge haired child was peering into another world altogether. Something must show in his expression for Victor pauses midword- _much to the rouge's dismay_ \- only to offer him a gentle smile, "If you want, I can teach you how to read."

For a moment wide golden eyes glance from the book and towards the man who had already granted him so much and was still offering him more before-

 _ **Crash**!_

Victor couldn't help but choke as he found himself buried beneath a rather small child who hugs might as well be classified as Lethal.

Especially when those deceptively frail looking arms- _what the hell had that bastard Ambrose place inside the child's bones? Some type of Steel or Titanium? Because Victor would be damned if this type of strength was natural_ \- managed to wrap themselves around one's neck and refused to let go.

 _Accidently murdered by an overexcited child who didn't know their own strength..._

He was never going to live this down, Victor decided as his vision blurred with black dots and his lips began to turn blue. Thankfully, someone up there was on his side as the child sudden pulled away before the rouge brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of a rather blue-faced man.

 _Strange_...Red wasn't aware people could change colors.

Though why anyone- _let alone Victor_ \- would want to turn their face blue and their neck purple was beyond him. After another moment of consideration, the rouge haired child shrugs- _After all, if being blue and purple made Victor happy who was he to deny the man that?-_ the issue from his mind.

 _Victor only attempts to make him attend a 'normal' school once._

 _Why, red doesn't understand, but its obvious from the start the Teachers do not like him- that's okay he doesn't like them either- as they believe he's 'mentally defective' and tell him so rather bluntly to his face as 'he can't understand us anyway'._

 _The other students like him even less. Their words and actions are mental to cut- to rip him to pieces and destroy everything that made him, Him- but the rouge haired child finds them easy to ignore- Compared to Monster and Friend they were but annoying gnats buzzing around his head- though this makes some of them angry._

 _He doesn't care. Why should he when the only interest he held for any of them was the shade of red beneath their skin?_

 _He wants to know if it is a light red or a dark red. Will it be the shade of rubies or roses? Will they be marveled at the beauty beneath their skins or will they scream like Thirteen used to do when Monster caused her red to surface?_

 _He wants to- needs to- know, but he promised Victor so Red tries his best to ignore the urge. And for a while- two hours and fifteen minutes to be exact- he succeeds until break comes and one of the boys- a brunette whose name he couldn't recall if he tried... Maybe something to do with a jellyfish?- hits him in the back of the head with a thick polished stick- for some type of kendo class- he usually carried around._

 _For a moment, the rouge haired child hears nothing as his golden eyes stare intensely at the smear of crimson against the soft tan of the wood before it clicks:_

 _The red is His. The brunette had stolen his red. The brunette had attacked him and stolen his red. Something bitter twists within the child's chest cavity as golden eyes sharpen._

 _It's the screaming that finally draws the adults' attention._

 _He doesn't understand why the adults scream nor why the strange four wheel death trap of metal and glass is called to cart the other children away to someplace called a 'hospital', but in the end, it doesn't matter. All that matters it Victor's disappointed gaze as the elder man's white pocket towel turns crimson from a vain attempt at removing the stunning red liquid from his face._

 _"Maybe it was still too soon," Victor mumbles softly staring down at the child's blood smeared face. A headkerchief just wouldn't be enough to clean up this mess -and he wasn't just speaking of the blood- through that didn't mean he wouldn't try._

 _He's forbidden from returning, but Red doesn't mind- There was nothing there for him anyways- so he clings to a large hand which guides him home._


End file.
